A Conversation in Whispers
by lousiemcdoogle
Summary: "He shifted the stupid popcorn to the empty seat on the other side. More fool him for hoping for romance tonight. He'd had silly, fanciful daydreams about entwined fingers in the popcorn bucket- but that obviously wasn't going to happen." -A movie date conversation. One shot. Cover art by the awesome dtrekker.


**A/N: For Brookemopolitan, for prompting me when I was in an odd, fluffy mood. And then the characters took over and this came out. Written and posted all in the same evening, so forgive me if it's a little rough.**

**Disclaimer: Andrew Marlowe and ABC should really be sued for writing such compelling, distracting characters that cry out to me to play with them even though they aren't mine. Actually, on second thoughts, their time and money is better spent on making me more episodes to devour ;-)**

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"You are not feeling me up in a movie theatre, Castle," Kate's voice was low, both in pitch and volume, a timbre he heard more frequently used on suspects in the interrogation room than on a date with her boyfriend. He pulled his hand away from where it was lingering a little too close to her inner thigh as if it had been scorched, nearly bumping over the enormous bucket of popcorn that was wedged between his knees.

He pouted. He knew she didn't really like using that word to describe the man she was in the most serious relationship of her adult life with, but his enormous blue eyes somehow nearly doubled in size with the most pitiful expression imaginable, and he stuck his lower lip out so far she would swear she could park a truck on it. Having an actress as a mother came in handy from time to time.

"But there's a hot dog dancing on the screen," he replied in an exaggerated stage whisper, as if this explained everything. "And we're on a _date_."

"We're still in public," she replied, her voice clipped.

"That didn't stop us last time..." he began, but his voice trailed off when he caught her eye. Her glare could have withered a rainforest into a desert. He sighed, dropped the schoolboy act. "This is about earlier, isn't it?" he asked, his voice heavy.

She turned her head to stare at the screen fixedly. He had been reading her long enough to know he had guessed correctly.

"Come on, Kate. How was I supposed to know she was a fan? She's works for the DA!"

"And that's supposed to comfort me?" she was still staring at the screen.

"I didn't do anything wrong," he maintained, sighing.

He was met with a stony silence.

He reached for a handful of popcorn, gracelessly shoved it in his mouth, and glanced again at the woman beside him. She was like a statue, a work of art. Breathtakingly beautiful, valuable beyond price, completely untouchable. A preview for the latest action flick started on the screen. Normally it would have engrossed him. Not tonight, though. Not when the woman who held his heart was so close but so very far away.

Another preview, and another. Still silence.

Finally, Castle broke. "Look, I get it. I screwed up. If it really bothers you that much, you're under no obligation to stay," he said miserably.

She blinked, turned to look at him. There were unshed tears glittering in the dull, flickering light of the screen. "Is that what you want?" she asked in a small voice that pierced his chest, left him bleeding out on the floor of the cinema. He ached to push the ridiculous bucket of popcorn aside, gather her up in his arms, kiss her senseless, never let her go- but they were beyond that.

The case they had been working on all week had been gruelling. This was meant to be part of his brilliant plan to distract her, to lighten her load now it was done. But then the new assistant DA had come in, all deep red curls and pencil skirts, smart wit and laughing eyes- and she was _such_ a fan, and would he mind signing the copy of _Heat Rises_ that she _happened_ to have with her? And all he had done was the polite thing. Sign the book. Make her a coffee in the break room. Put on the old Richard Castle persona and charm, and hopefully grease the wheels of the relationship between the 12th and the DA's office. It wasn't his fault she practically sat in his lap in the break room, or tucked her card in his shirt pocket with eyes full of invitation, or opted to forgo a farewell handshake in favour of a kiss that had landed technically closer to the corner of his mouth than his actual cheek.

Since his birthday, he had really thought things were going well, relationship-wise. That Kate was happy. That she was with him, and they were headed for forever together. He had already mentally struck Number 50 off his bucket list. With her. Oh, he knew life with Kate Beckett was never going to be easy. She was always going to be reserved, introverted. But he had done easy before- in multiple senses of the phrase- and knew that wasn't what he truly desired. He truly desired her, and had done for so long that just being able to be with her was the single biggest dream come true of his life.

Lately, though...

Lately she had been more withdrawn than usual, insisting on spending more and more nights at her own place, without him. Always with perfectly legitimate excuses, naturally- their case load had been insane these past few weeks, and they had barely even had time to close one before they were called out to another. But even when they were together, something had been... off. He had merely assumed that after 11 glorious months, the honeymoon phase was finally fading, but... what if it was more than that?

"Of course I don't want you to go," he finally replied, defeated. He shifted the stupid popcorn to the empty seat on the other side. More fool him for hoping for romance tonight. He'd had silly, fanciful daydreams about entwined fingers in the popcorn bucket- but that obviously wasn't going to happen. He wasn't hungry any more, anyway.

"Castle..." she began, but didn't continue. It stayed there, hanging between them.

"Movie's starting," he replied, but his eyes weren't on the screen. There was a stray piece of popcorn on the floor next to his shoe, probably from when he'd nearly upset the bucket earlier. He could feel her eyes on him, didn't need to look to see the little crease between her eyebrows.

"You were happy today."

She said it so quietly, almost under her breath. Had the music not suddenly dropped away on the film's title, he would have missed it. He whipped his head around to face her.

"What?"

"You were happy today," she repeated, actually audible this time, but still mindful of the fact that they were in a cinema.

"I'm happy every day," he began, but she shook her head.

"Not like today. Not lately. Today you were laughing," her voice hitched.

His heart was in a thousand pieces. "Kate..."

"You were charming today, Castle. Vivacious. Flirting just enough to intrigue, but not so much it was inappropriate. And you were happy," she dropped her eyes away.

He couldn't hold himself back any more, gently cupped her cheek in his hand. His heart leapt when she leaned into it a little. "I was pretending," he reassured her, pleading with her to believe him. "It was all an act. Yes, she was an attractive woman, and yes, five years ago I would have been interested. But joking around with her is not what makes me happy, Kate. You want to know what makes me happy?" he waited for her to lift her fathomless eyes up to meet his, before leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. He felt her sigh, lean into him. Maybe things weren't as desperate as he feared.

"It makes my heart turn over when you smile, Kate. It radiates out of you, leaves me entranced. That's why I wanted to take you out tonight. That's why I insisted on a comedy. I haven't seen you smile lately. I thought," his breath caught at the possibility, "I thought it was because of me. That you weren't happy with me. I was trying to give you space, but... I can't. I need you, Kate."

She had closed her eyes while he was speaking, letting his words wash over her, but she opened them now, lifting one hand to gently stroke his jaw, trail up his neck and into his hair, her eyes filled with wonder. "I thought you were pulling away. That you were getting bored with me-"

"Never!" he declared vehemently, pulling away so he could stare at her in disbelief, before suddenly yanking her into a tight embrace. She snaked her arms around his back, somehow managed to snuggle her head against his chest in spite of the armrest that was jammed awkwardly between them.

She let out a contented sigh, and he felt all the rigidity flow out of her, leaving her malleable and relaxed in his arms. He couldn't help but relax as well, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, stroking her hair out of her face and smoothing her soft curls down her back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his chest. He tilted her chin up so he could look her in the eye.

"Me, too," he replied. She smiled shyly up at him from beneath her lashes, all coy innocence and breathtaking temptress, a bundle of contradictions. He couldn't help but close the distance between them, brushing one, two, three kisses across her lips before finally diving in, coaxing her to open to him, sliding his tongue against hers. He sighed in contentment, felt rather than heard her answering hum.

He felt her hand slide up his arm and neck and into his hair, and tortuously smoothed one of his down her spine, around her hip, along her thigh, before allowing it to meander around her knee and begin its journey up the inner seam of her jeans. She pulled back abruptly, her eyes full of sparkle and sass.

"Castle, I already told you. You are not feeling me up in a movie theatre!"

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_Thoughts?_


End file.
